100 Themes: Electric Boogaloo
by mandrakefunnyjuice
Summary: You are not prepared for how FAR I just went there.  Trust me, though, they're actually good.  Most of them.   -Rating may change.  Will update sparingly, if at all.-   THEME 9:  Death. "Joy-Killer"
1. Ouroboros

**Ouroboros**  
>PROMPT 1: BEGINNINGS<br>SUBJECT: I am totally full of angst, and like, so is Colette? I guess? Implied LxC  
>WC: 837<p>

* * *

><p>Life ran in circles, with no true beginning and no true end. The insignia of Cruxis, which the Chosen was as familiar with as she was her own face, reified this simple philosophy: a never-ending circle, intertwined with a triangle that symbolized the elements that made life possible – land, sea, and sky. As for the other points of the holy emblem, those were confidential and were for the Chosen's ears only. It was a symbol and a constant, laden reminder that one day she would give all she had to give for the sake of the world.<p>

Colette has always thought it was rather pretty, too. She wondered sometimes if anything could just be that simple. She would like the Cruxis insignia a lot more if it were just a pretty picture and not some elaborate reminder of her life's quest.

She clutched at the red crystal at her neck compulsively, feeling the strange stone rather suffocating at that moment. It was a part of her now; she'd been born with it in her hand, marking her forever as the Chosen of Regeneration.

It was a suffocating title.

She didn't want to think about it anymore and went over to her window, staring at the bright noon sky. It was strange to think back on events as only having happened that very morning, since it felt like a lifetime ago.

The Tower of Salvation loomed on the horizon, impossibly tall. Colette couldn't help but be in awe at how majestic it looked, but she also couldn't help the weakness in her knees or the unsettling gnawing in her gut. She frowned and decided those weren't very Chosen-like thoughts she'd been thinking.

The Cruxis Crystal was suffocating.

It was an absolutely beautiful day outside. Birds chirped merrily in the trees, which swayed gently in the wind. It was warm and a bit dusty outside, but not too much. There wasn't a cloud to be seen and Colette smiled a bit sadly, silently thanking Martel for making it such a beautiful day on her birthday. The people of Iselia gathered together in small, excited clusters to chatter about the Oracle and the Chosen and the Journey. She spied several children playing in the tall grass in the house across from hers and Colette smiled from her window on the second floor, thinking them all rather pretty.

It had barely been morning not two hours ago when the light of the Oracle split the sky and signaled the moment of truth for her. She had been at school with Lloyd and the others and the dozing people of Iselia had barely been getting started in their daily routines. She had been trying to pay attention during the Professor's lecture but it was all old news to her, as she received such lessons daily from the priests as part of her duty as Chosen. She had been thinking about how pretty Raine had looked with the sun in her white hair. She had been planning on suggesting to her teacher that she should wear her hair down more often, because it suited her. She had been thinking about Lloyd, and—

The sun caught the silver buttons of her best friend's shirt as he approached the house, knocking on the front door. Colette would've called to him with a big wave and a smile but the Crystal at her neck felt too tight, too big, too heavy. She clutched at the nape of her neck and forced back a grimace.

Lloyd looked so nice in the sun, the red of his coat and the white of his scarves bright for all to see. From her vantage point at the window she couldn't see the deep brown of his eyes but she imagined them, and smiled. She could see the red highlights in his hair that only appeared in direct sunlight; she loved those. She didn't want to think about never seeing him again, or about the Tower, or about the Journey, or about angels and dying, since after all this was only the beginning.

And then he noticed her stare and looked up, baffled. She stifled a giggle at his confused face and waved. He called out a greeting; she responded and told him she'd be down in a moment before disappearing from the window and retreating back into her bedroom.

Colette rushed impulsively to her nightstand and snatched the object there. She had been staring at herself in her small hand mirror ever since she got back home. She checked herself again for good measure and relaxed when she saw the now-familiar glint of ruby-red at her neck. It wasn't quite so strange and terrifying a thing to wear, she reasoned, since after all, it did just look like a big pretty necklace. With that in mind, she put the mirror down and trotted downstairs.

Needless to say, it was a strange and not at all pretty thing to think that just earlier this morning Colette Brunel had begun to die.


	2. It's A Boob Reference

**It's A Boob Reference**  
>PROMPT 70: 67%<br>SUBJECT: Presea says some crap. Then I wrote this dialogue. Ya'll get the awesome joy of figuring out who says what, because I'm a lazy dick!  
>WC: 131<p>

* * *

><p>"There is a sixty-seven percent chance of failure on this mission."<p>

"And sixty-seven percent of all statistics are made up on the spot. You're just so full of math, Rosebud. You should retire, become a calculator!"

"I'm not a calculator, Zelos. I'm simply adept at discerning probabilities."

"I don't buy it – there's no way you came up with all that right then. You're making that shit up, I just _know _it."

"What's all this now?"

"Oh, nothing _Jubblies_! You're looking especially lovely today, might I add. Hee hee!"

"W-what? Who are you talking to?"

"My two best friends! Oh, and you too, Sheena."

"Argh! You—"

". . . There is a ninety-seven percent chance that Zelos is about to be slapped by Sheena."

"Okay, now _that, _I can buy."

_SLAP._


	3. Joy Killer

**Joy-Killer**  
>PROMPT 9: Death<br>SUBJECT: KRATOS. KRATOS CAN YOU HEAR ME. KRATOS. I HATE YOU. I HATE YOU SO MUCH, KRATOS. AAAAAAA! So, I muscled my way past my terrible rage in order to write a nice angst-shot 'bout Kratos. And it was so hard. I think I might die.  
>WC: 665<p>

* * *

><p>What was the least he could say? Part of him refused to understand why everything was suddenly different and unclear; the part of him that forgot how it was to be human. He had thought that the years had slowly poisoned that part, as it was unnecessary in his line of work, but to his horror, it was still breathing.<p>

Only so much was there that a man could take, only so much strain, even after taking on the world. So much time had passed, and so many faces all blurring together into an indistinct fog. Years have become meaningless, and unrelenting. His time with Anna had shattered the norm, but it was only so brief, only temporary, like all things. His son would succumb to time in the same unkind manner, he knew. It would be better to stop the suffering now and save the world the trouble.

He still couldn't bring the sword down.

Betraying the group had not been difficult; he'd been preparing for it for the last months. The events with Kvar had shaken him, he admitted it, but eventually the rage subsided. He had let the boy get too close afterwards; he recognized it now as a mistake, and it was going to cost him. He would pay the price now by bringing that sword down and ending Lloyd's life.

He could not do it.

Kratos had told him not to die and, as punishment for not listening, he would kill him. He had to. There was no other way.

"W-wh-a-wha—" Lloyd coughed, spluttered, and Kratos broke, though none could see it on the outside. The sword wouldn't budge one way or the other. He was paralyzed with an emotion he'd forgotten how to feel. "Why … are you doing this?" Lloyd – _my son!_ – rasped out.

Kratos had no answer. There was nothing he could say that would make sense. His mind refused to work, his body refused to move. _Why? _

The silence was too much. Lloyd looked up with eyes filled with rage, sending a shock through Kratos' entire body. He had denied that boy resembled Anna in any way, as the resemblance was painful to remember, but he couldn't deny it now. He saw her in the eyes of his son, or what he imagined of her, what she would be like now, what she would think of his decisions. The sheer fury in Lloyd's dark eyes stayed Kratos' hand; it was what had frozen him in place. It was what made him afraid to answer.

Still, he could not bring himself to move that sword.

"Well?" Lloyd demanded, defeated, but still defiant. _My son. _"_**SAY SOMETHING!**_"

And what could he say? With Yggdrasill over his shoulder, with the fate of the world in his hands. What could he say? _I would've taken you with me, if I'd known. I would've loved you, if I'd known. We would've traveled the world together, just like you wanted. I would've done anything, if I could've, if I'd known. I would have killed the world for you, but instead, I must kill you for the world. _

The moments passed and flitted away – his mind was in another place, his eyes never leaving his son. He said nothing, did nothing while the Renegades spirited his son and his friends away. There was nothing to be said or done. He did not react when his ex-student ordered him away, to fulfill his divine work. He could only think of what could've been done or said, and what was left unsaid – and what his son must never know.

If Lloyd were to ever find out his parentage, the shame might kill him. And if Lloyd were to accept him for who he was, the joy would end him. Either way led to a death – of shame that murders, of love that kills, and neither would be.

Therefore, since it was the least that could be said and the most he could ask, Kratos said only, "Don't die."


End file.
